Rough Hands & Odd Jobs
by kyunyo
Summary: His eyes fluttered half-closed as his fingers lightly traced over Kaito's knuckles. He leaned heavily on the warm and breathing chest behind him, and allowed his mind to drift. -Shinichi contemplates Kaito's hands and all the weird jobs he has; KaiShin-


_This is a 2PKaiShin fic. (So this is the same verse, same circumstances as the story Pills, if you've read it. -but probably not since it'll be deleted soon but can still be found on my LJ; lewink-)_

**The 2P verse is: ****_2Planes/ Two Planes:_**** KidCon and KaiShin belong in different worlds, their gateway to each other's world is through a bookstore. The difference between the two is that 2PKidCon used to have the Black Org, 2PKaiShin's world is one that never had the Black Org.**

Basic run down, you should totally check out my LJ (found on my profile) to see more 2P drabbles.

A/N: Omg lol. This was an idea that spread from an idea. I don't know. From writing Sensitive (a fic I haven't finished writing yet), I got five different ideas and this was one of them.

This is pieces of headcanon smushed in there to make a disorderly mess. Let's just say that Shinichi and Kaito have a rather interesting relationship. And this mainly highlights the things that Kaito does. ;D

**Warnings: Language and some inferences of mature themes.**

—

He had long fingers to a very nicely shaped hand.

His fingers were evenly fleshed out with the perfect balance of fat, bone, and muscle; and the way how his knuckles and veins jutted out added to the over-all appeal of its shape. His hands were a bit thicker than his due to the fact he's well-muscled, and so they were always taut and springy. Reflexes were well sharpened because it was a necessity for a magician to have quick hands.

The skin wrapped around his hand was by no mean soft though, but hard and callused from doing too much odd jobs that required odd skills. He worked at the local convenience store down the street and to the left; decked out in an apron, he'd help the old grandma — _manager_— stack the incoming inventory items into the storage room.

The cardboard boxes usually consisted of various merchandise: a lot of different brands of soda and juice cans, airy chip bags, occasionally, boxes were packed with different types of magazines— including the lewd ones about ways to spice up a relationship that Shinichi, in horror, found Kaito flipping through several times. Lifting the boxes repetitively and having the cardboard scrape against his skin— that was probably one of the origins of his calluses—

And then there was that other strange job where he signed up to help renovate the public park ten blocks from his house. He'd skip out of the house in dirt-stained camo pants and a black shirt and tell Shinichi he wouldn't be home until late evening, so— "Make dinner— Thank you, baby—"

Shinichi made a slight face— if he was half the genius he claimed he was, why didn't Kaito just go and intern at Beika University's drama department? They regularly put on theatrical performances, and they were always in a constant need of someone to direct props, manage the sound, choreograph, script writing, act— the list was endless. But Kaito was weird and did not simply just _do _things.

His hand brushed underneath the other. In contrast to his own hand, which was delicate and slender— he does an office job, never roughened up his hands— Kaito's hand felt like sand paper.

He turned over Kaito's hand and noticed a curious but healed burn on the skin between his thumb and index finger. With the pad of his own thumb, he massaged over the hardened skin—

He probably got it during that time when he announced that he was going to head back to his actual house in Ekoda to do something for the night. He hopped on his dinky, old motorcycle he bought for cheap from an college upperclassmen and sped away as quickly as he came home from somewhere— oh, right, he also worked in an mechanics part store. And he'd continue his disappearance frequently throughout the weak, each time, coming home with car grease smeared over his hands and the putrid smell of gasoline wafting from his shirt—

Two weeks later, Kaito came home and gave Shinichi a wet, sloppy kiss— a few of them actually— and dragged him outside to present to him the dinky motorcycle no longer. Shinichi was impressed. It was a customized, sleek black motorcycle— transformed under the tinkering of skilled hands and the amazing understanding of mechanics— even if he was a major in theatrics and for some reason, physics.

"I redesigned the shape of it, makes it a two-person, racer-friendly bike. And it can cap 180 in just a few seconds— " And Kaito went to blab about motorcycles and speed, and Shinichi knew in the back of his head that he and Hattori would be best friends on _that _topic.

Shinichi vaguely wondered why it is that Kaito picked up the strangest jobs around. And his frequent change of jobs or new addition of them to his ever busy schedule had Shinichi's mind spinning in confusion—

There was a day that he ran out from the house in a dress shirt and dress pants saying that he was late to a dinner reservation at six at some fancy restaurant in Haido.

Shinichi bristled at the idea— _Kaito had a date? Wasn't it Kaito that insisted that Shinichi was his boyfriend?_— and he sulked at home, brewing the worst case scenario of Kaito _cheating _on him with a woman. And when Kaito returned, he was all bright smiles with his clothes in tatters and out of order, yabbering about what a great job he's done and how there'd be a nice fat paycheck coming in that Friday—

Shinichi had tensed on the couch, the coffee mug he was holding nearly cracked— Oh, so not only did he go out with a woman, but _slept _with her too? What is he, a manslut— "You, _manslut_. Get the fuck out of the house," Shinichi growled, but tears quickly dribbling down his cheeks betrayed his true emotions.

And they had an eventful moment, where Shinichi sat frozen on the couch sniffling stubbornly and Kaito was confused as to why he started to cry and why the new nickname?

It took an hour for Kaito to coax a sulking and very riled Shinich and to thoroughly explain that it was his job to be a host— _"No, no, Shinichi, that's not what a Host does."_— and he was the waiter/ host to the rich family that was visiting from Europe, and the reason why his clothes were nearly half torn off was because they had a mischievous toddler that thought it was funny to spread tomato sauce on his face.

And the night ended with Kaito squishing his lungs out with extreme cuddling because— _"So my baby was jealous, so cute, so cute, ahh, Shinichi, you're too precious— !"_And Shinichi was clearly embarrassed for his life and would dig himself into a hole if Kaito hadn't stuck his grabby hands on him and reeled him into a tight hug—

That had been a while ago and Shinichi had long convinced himself that Kaito was too much of an idiot to even try to cheat behind a detective's back. He may specialize mostly in sniffing out murderers, but if things got personal for him, Shinichi was fully capable of over-turning all the dirt in a relationship— but Kaito was too much of an idiot to even try.

His eyes fluttered half-closed as his fingers lightly traced over Kaito's knuckles. He leaned heavily on the warm and breathing chest behind him, and allowed his mind to drift.

Kaito's hands were rough, but they had a touch of masculinity and handiwork that Shinichi found himself lacking— _yes_, he was a man too, but not in the same way that Kaito was. He was calm and collected with a classy taste for literature and music; not to mention, he mostly rather do brain work than anything, and it seems like soccer was the only boyish thing he's done. Kaito, on the other hand, was something entirely different. Shinichi highly disapproved of his interest in provocative magazines and books— _ "Why, why, why do you have these?" _

_"Just references." _He'd say before Shinichi snatched away his things and chucked them away into the garbage or shelf, depending on the monetary value the thing in his hands had—

"Shinichi, I don't really mind the contact, but I need that hand to kill these bastards."

And the absence of the sound of men groaning and the RPK rattling off in the TV, made Shinichi blink. He jerked his head to look up at the screen and noticed it was paused— and when Kaito mentioned it, he noticed how he had completely tore his hand off the game controller

His hands were snugly entangled with Kaito's, an affectionate gesture that Shinichi would never do consciously because they were just friends and_ friends don't do that kind of stuff— _

Shinichi immediately released his hold. "Uhm, sorry— " He gave Kaito a glance and found him warmly, if not cheekily, smiling back at him.

"Nah." There was a sly twitch of his lip, as his arm, already snaked around Shinichi and locked him within, reached back to grab the game controller. The game resumed and the gun rattling and sound effects continued. "You were studying my hand and it was cute, so— "

Shinichi crashed his head into the underside of Kaito's jaw. There was a surprised grunt and then a crazy fire of a machine gun for a moment as his head virtually blocked his view. It took a while for the random chaos on the TV to calm back into Kaito's controlled frenzy of shooting and killing.

"Shnichi, that wasn't nice."

But Shinichi shrugged and shut his eyes, falling into a comfortable sleep.

—

A/N: Pff, just me and my headcanons. Don't mind me. I find 2PKaishin very fun to write. Oh right, should I just say that 2PShinichi is really conflicted about what his and Kaito's relationship is? xD; Like he really thinks they're friends, but he gets upset if Kaito goes and hangs out with other people. Pff, so in a sense, if it makes sense, Shinichi and Kaito are in a lovey-dovey relationship and Shinichi ... is just being a derp and yea.

...I don't know.

Oh wells.

I love reviews btw. I will reply to you and squish your lungs out. 8D Ehe.


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